Blood and Ink and Seawater
by Xany Kaos
Summary: There are a lot of things that mark a pirate. Sometimes the outside should match the inside. Elizabethcentric, ElizabethRagetti as either friendship or romance, depending on how you squint.


**A/N: PotC and the Characters belong to Disney. "Whale of a Tale" is from _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ and also belongs to Disney. Anyone who knows what the _Polina_ is from is obviously cool and has fantastic musical taste. Concertinas technically weren't invented until the 1800's, but pirates playing concertinas rock. The tattoo lore is, for the most part, accurate, though it might be a bit anachronistic.**

**Some spec on AWE. Might be part of a set of stories. Feedback is always appreciated. Danke. (I _will_ get to updating "Rabid." Maybe over the summer).**

**

Blood and Ink and Seawater

**

* * *

"Got a whale of a tale t'tell ye, lad, a whale of a tale or two!" Carefully watched lanterns and the raucous singing and laughter filled the hold of the ship, giving it a warm, almost friendly, glow that belied the cold night outside, and the growing danger that every man-jack could taste, like frost on the wind. 

Ragetti sat perched on a barrel, playing an old concertina. A red-faced Pintel leaned against the bulkhead behind him. Several mostly-empty bottles of rum lay scattered about; the only one with any rum worth the name left in it hung loosely from Elizabeth's rather drunken grip as she sat with her back against Ragetti's barrel--the only thing keeping her upright. All three were singing, with varying degrees of success. A few of the other crew members lounged amid the barrels and crates, slurring their way through the choruses and hoisting their own bottles and mugs at appropriate moments.

"An' it's all true, I swear by me tattoo! Oh, it's all true, I swear by me tattoo!" By the finish of the song, Ragetti was the only one still singing. He looked around the hold with a daft, pleased grin plastered to his thin face. Pintel tried to coax the last few drops from his bottle, slowly slid to the floor, and began snoring almost immediately.

"'Ve y'really go' one?" he heard a sludgy voice ask from somewhere near his knee.

"Huh?" Ragetti leaned over, eliciting an unpleasant squonk from the concertina as he squished it accidentally. He leapt up in surprise and promptly fell off the barrel. Elizabeth giggled at him as he struggled to right himself.

"I said," she sat up straighter, making an effort to appear sober. "Have you really got one?"

"One wot?"

"Tattoo." Elizabeth leaned in closer and Ragetti blinked stupidly at her for a moment, trying, through a haze of rum, to understand what she was talking about.

"Oh. Oh. Yeah." He nodded, and ducked his head nervously. "Have." Elizabeth smiled and put her hand on his arm.

"Well, let's see it, then."

"Wot, my tattoos?" Elizabeth nodded unsteadily. Ragetti shrugged, pulled his knees to his chest and gestured at his filthy feet. Elizabeth squinted. Through the grime, she could just make out a crude drawing of a pig on top of his left foot. He gestured again and she saw that he had a drawing of a rooster on his right foot.

"It's a pig," she said flatly. "An' a chicken," she added. Ragetti grinned shyly.

"'S supposeda keep y'from drownin'. They can't swim, see, chigs an' pickens, so they make sure y'get to land right quick." Elizabeth giggled.

"That's ridicily...ridicudic...that's just _silly_." Ragetti ducked his head.

"'S'wot Pinters said too, when I got 'em. But ol' Seamus, on the _Polina_, he said it'd work. 'N I ain't been drowned yet." He grinned proudly, then frowned suddenly, trying to think if being cursed was as bad as drowning. Should roosters and pigs protect against curses?

"So that's all?" Elizabeth was still staring at his feet. She sounded disappointed. Ragetti shrugged again, giggling nervously and rubbing his arm.

"Well...I got one other. Two, sorta..." Elizabeth's hand went back to his arm.

"Well, lemme see it, then." Ragetti shivered slightly as her fingers gently rubbed little circles on his arm. The touch seemed almost intimate. Did she even know she was doing that? As much to escape the strange caress as anything, he turned away from her touch and moved so she could see his right arm. He started to roll the sleeve up, only to find that it wouldn't roll past his elbow.

"Um. ...it's on me shoulder..." he said apologetically. Elizabeth only looked at him, the haughty, if slightly unsteady, look of a noblewoman waiting for her orders to be obeyed. The sort of look that said 'Well. _You_ know what to do, then.' Ragetti giggled again, eye darting around for an escape. His gaze landed on a nearby bottle with a dram of rum visible through the glass. He snatched it up and quickly downed the remaining rum. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he turned back to Elizabeth, still eyeing him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Oh. Right." He put the bottle down and slid his arm from his coat-sleeve. A little more rum always help; he felt a bit more warm and fuzzy. If she wanted to see the tattoo, fine.

The shirt was a little more of a problem, but with a bit of a contortionist act, he managed to get his arm free of his sleeve without untucking it, and only tearing the collar a little.

"There." He put his long fingers on his bicep, pointing to a green-inked cannon, considerably better-drawn than the pig or rooster. "'S a cannon," he added unnecessarily. "I got it back when I was in the Navy, on the _Invincible_. 'S a cannon because Pint n' me're cannoneers. So we gets a cannon."

"Hmm." Elizabeth traced the image with cool fingers, looking drunkenly intrigued. Ragetti caught his breath at her touch. She looked up suddenly, eyes narrowed in thought. "You were in the Navy?" Ragetti nodded.

"Press-ganged when I were seventeen. Me'n Pint had been on the _Polina_--whalin' ship--for a year or so before then."

"And then you turned pirate?" Ragetti shrugged and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of something else where his hand was pressed to his shoulder. "What's this?" She pushed his hand aside, squinting curiously. Ragetti quickly clapped his hand back over the spot, but she only moved it again. Defeated, he hunched his shoulders and looked away with an annoyed huff.

Right above the cannon, wrapped around a wee anchor and drawn with more care than any of the other three tattoos, was a dapper little seahorse.

He heard her giggle, and tried back away, only to encounter the bulkhead.

"'S nothin' funny 'bout it. Lots sailors 'ave animals on. Cotton's gotta turtle coz he's been to Africa, and Scarrus 'ad a dragon coz he'd gone to...somewhere, I don't remember."

"So why the sea horse?" Elizabeth asked, tracing the ink lines absently.

"I like sea 'orses." Elizabeth laughed quietly and settled herself more comfortably against the crate, still running her fingers over the tattoos.

"It's nice."

Ragetti mumbled something incoherent, but smiled slightly.

"So..." Elizabeth interrupted herself with a yawn. "Do all pirates have tattoos then?"

"I s'ppose so. 'S just a way t'tell who we are'n where we've been." Ragetti paused in thought. "Fact, I'd say everyone on this ship has one. 'Cept for Mr. Turner, maybe."

"And me," murmured Elizabeth. Still touching Ragetti's arm, she laid her head on his shoulder. He stiffened.

"'Ey, Poppet?" he asked, voice shaking a bit.

"Mmm?" came the sleepy reply.

"Um..." Ragetti paused, unsure. Elizabeth's hand dropped from his arm and fell to his leg. He could hear soft, delicate snores. "Um...nothin'."

* * *

"You sure about this, Poppet?" Pintel asked for the thirtieth time since they set foot on the docks. Elizabeth nodded and took another drink, before passing the bottle back. She glanced over at the thin, heavily inked man who studied the parchment she'd given him. He squinted up at her. 

"Two gold."

"That's ridiculous."

"More for custom." Elizabeth frowned and shook her head. They bartered shortly in a mix of pidgin English and Mandarin, with some help from Pintel, who had more experience with the language, mostly words like "knife," "pain," and "or else." Ragetti said nothing and just milled around anxiously eyeing the drawings that hung on the walls and the blood-soaked bandages on the floor.

Eventually they paid him three crowns and a shilling. The man nodded and readied his instruments with a smile. Pintel scowled down at Elizabeth worriedly.

"You _sure_ about this, Poppet?" She gave him a glare and he handed her the bottle. Ragetti came to stand beside them. The small man nodded again, and Elizabeth laid her right arm on the table between them.  
"Pretty lady know this hurt. This hurt_tòng kǔ_." He smiled up at her with broken teeth. Elizabeth nodded and took a very long swallow, wincing at the foul taste.

"Pretty lady can handle pain," she said evenly, with that steely, determined look in her eyes. Pintel rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. Ragetti took her other hand in his and she gave it a grateful squeeze that turned vice-like when the first needle entered her skin.

They returned to the ship late that night, Elizabeth more than a bit sloshed and half-carried between her two friends. Naturally, rum had been used as courage and anesthetic for the procedure, and naturally, a pirate getting their first tattoo called for a celebration afterwards. And even Ragetti, stick-thin as he was, held his rum better than Elizabeth. Not that Ragetti was much more sober than she was. And he certainly didn't mind having Elizabeth's weight, warm and comfortable, leaning on him, her hair tickling his neck. Though she was rather heavier than she looked.

* * *

"I swear by me tattooooo..." Elizabeth chuckled her way through the song, completely off key. Ragetti joined in as they mumbled the words in a haze. Pintel shook his head and did his best to carry both their weight. 

"'S a right nice one y'got too, 'Lizibefibef..." Ragetti stumbled over her name, trying as hard as he could to get it right. He never got to call her by her Christian name. "Lizizibess...Bess...Eh-liz..."

"Like 'Bess,'" Elizabeth slurred, smiling up at him through heavily lidded eyes, her head too heavy to support. Ragetti grinned.

"Lizzy-bess."

"Oi, will th' pair o' ya just shut up," grumbled Pintel. "We're almost at th' bloody ship an' then y'kin collapse on th' deck fer all I care."

Will was waiting on the dock near the gangplank, anxious as a mother hen, for all that they were back earlier than half the crew (who were no doubt enjoying pleasurable company, and wouldn't be back until two bells into the morning watch). He all but snatched Elizabeth from the pirates' supporting arms. Ragetti stumbled a bit at the unexpected loss of weight, and was caught by Pintel.

"Where've you been? Are you all right?" He shot Pintel and Ragetti a suspicious look.

Elizabeth giggled drunkenly in response.

Will's look turned into an all-out glare at the state of his sort-of-fiance. Pintel fixed him with an even look. Ragetti opted to watch the waves and lean on his friend's shoulder.

"You're drunk." Will sounded shocked. Ragetti wasn't sure why he was shocked. Elizabeth had been drunk before. And they'd been on shore-leave. Of _course_ Elizabeth was drunk. _Everyone_ got drunk on shore-leave.

"Now see here..." Elizabeth began primly, trying to push Will away with an outstretched arm. "I'm perfekik-perfikidly fffine-nah."

Will frowned at her, then noticed the bandage wrapped around her wrist.

"You're hurt!" Will loved to state things, Ragetti mused. Will took her hand, trying to examine the bandage. "What happened?" Concern and accusation in his voice--concern for Elizabeth, accusation for her two escorts.

"Nothing!"

Elizabeth pulled her hand from his and fell backwards at the sudden lack of support, falling straight into Ragetti, who caught and held her up, while still being supported by Pintel. Supported by her friends, Elizabeth stood up a little straighter, jutting her chin out defiantly.

"Nothing happened, Will," she said with the clear enunciation of the incredibly swotted.

"But your hand--!"

"Nothing. Happened." Having used up the last of her sobriety, Elizabeth's eyelids drooped and her head fell forward.

"We'd best be gettin' th' lady t'her bunk," said Pintel with what he hoped was a placating smile. Will shot them a look of disgust and scooped Elizabeth up in his arms before either could move.

"Thank you, 'gentlemen.' I think I'd best see to that. Good night." He stalked up the gang plank, leaving the two plastered pirates staring after him.

"Ooh, 'e's a might touchy." Pintel snorted and poked Ragetti, who broke out into a fit of giggles.

"Touchy...eheheh..."

* * *

The fight had been brief--just a skirmish before a much larger battle that they all knew was coming. There were corpses to throw overboard and bloodstains to wash from the deck. There was the problem of Jack and Barbossa both vying for lead and the crew still unsure of which to follow. There was Will's problem in that he didn't want to follow either one at all. He was sick, sick to death of pirates and of everything to do with pirates. He'd heard tales of Fiddler's Green, where a man walked inshore carrying an oar with him until he came to a village where no one knew what an oar was--a magical land with beer and women and hearts-ease. Well, he'd seen enough of magical things and legends-come-true to last several lifetimes, but the idea of a place without ships, sea, or sailors seemed like heaven on earth. When his quest was over, when his father was freed, he was going to find whatever decent port-town he could, start a smithy, and forget the sea, forget ships, forget bloody pirates. 

He only hoped Elizabeth would come with him.

Elizabeth. _That which vexes all men_ indeed. He was beginning to understand why Davy Jones had been willing to cut his own heart out. It wasn't merely being in love with someone--it was being in love with someone and hating them at the same time. Her betrayal still hurt. And when he realized why she'd done it, how she'd seduced Jack and betrayed _him_ to save their lives, it didn't hurt less. It just filled him with disgust. Yes, it had worked. But it was so...underhanded. So self-serving. So..._pirate_.

He shook his head and went back to clearing the wreckage, glancing over his shoulder where the object of his affection and vexation was helping the scrawny pirate heave a cloth-wrapped body over the side. She'd been spending too much time with them, with the other pirates. At first, he knew, it was to avoid him, and later, to avoid Jack. But he didn't like what he was seeing, what she was becoming.

But under it all, he knew she was a lady of breeding. It wasn't why he loved her, but it was a part of who she was, and he knew that, whatever it seemed, at the end of the day, Elizabeth would be who she'd always been--a lady.

After the messy work was finished, he found her on the forecastle, leaning on the bulwark and clasping a line, eyes fixed on the horizon and ocean spray in her hair. Blood, new and old, stained her ripped clothes, her face was smudged, and her hair lank and knotted. And she still looked beautiful. He gently pushed the wind-whipped hair from her eyes. She looked up at him and smiled, and his heart soared for a moment.

"I was worried for you." Her smile changed.

"You don't have to, Will. I can take care of myself."

"_I_ want to take care of you." He brushed her cheek, but she shook her head and pushed his hand away, gently.

"Will, please--"

"What's that?" A glimpse of green from under her torn sleeve distracted him. He caught her arm and pushed up her sleeve. Ocean waves, drawn in dark green ink, circled her wrist like a bracelet, and above the waves, a graceful swan spread its wings. The skin around the ink was still slightly pink and raised. Will looked from the swan to Elizabeth and back, confused.

"Elizabeth, what...?"

"I got it when we were in the last port." Her gaze was even, the sort of gaze she'd given her father when he tried to dissuade her from marrying Will.

Will released her arm. Elizabeth rested her arms on the bulwark, her sleeve still around her elbow, the tattoo in full view.

"_Why?_" He couldn't tell if he was angry or confused, but for some reason, it felt a little bit like being betrayed again. Elizabeth smiled at him, that sad smile she's been using lately. A smile of regret, one usually aimed at Jack. Will didn't like the implications of receiving such a smile.

Elizabeth, for her part, had nothing to say. If Will couldn't understand that the tattoo was just a way for her to mark the outside of her to match the inside, if he didn't understand that the mark had always _been_ there, it was just ink and blood and seawater that made it visible now... If he couldn't or wouldn't understand that, then she certainly wasn't going to try to explain it.

But he did understand. Not consciously, but somewhere, somewhere in the churn of thoughts surrounding his love, another truth fell into place. He wouldn't admit it to himself. Not yet.

"It's...nice," he managed at last. She smiled again, and her gaze drifted back to the horizon.

"Maybe you should get one," she suggested, playfully. She wasn't playing. He knew that and he shook his head.

"No. I don't think so."

* * *

Ragetti found her a little while later, alone on the forecastle, staring at the darkening sky as if trying to read a book. He could tell from the way that young Turner stalked below deck that they had another not-quite-fight, and he knew Elizabeth usually liked to drink and forget after those. With a trace of his typical shyness, he told her that most of the crew was met below the hold to drink to their good fortune. Elizabeth kept staring out at the sea for a long while before answering. 

"No. Thank you. I think I'd rather be sober right now." Ragetti, who'd already had a few, nodded, then cocked his head at his shipmate.

"You alright, Bess? I mean, Miss Swann?" He winced. He hadn't meant to call her that, hadn't called her that since the drunken night at port. She smiled at him.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Ragetti."

He nodded again and tugged his forelock, then realized what he was doing and changed the gesture to running his hand through his hair.

"Right." He sighed and turned to leave. A hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back expectantly, but she didn't say anything, only turned back to the sea. After a moment, he joined her, leaving against the bulwark. And if she moved a bit closer because of the near-Arctic chill, well, that was alright too. He looked down at their touching arms, and for a moment, fueled by the hazy warmth of rum and something else, his calloused fingers traced the swan on her wrist before he remembered himself and pulled away.

"'S lovely," he murmured, blushing, eyes downcast. She smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said, and there was a genuine gratitude behind her words that extended to something other than the compliment, and she was warm next to him, and he knew that, underneath the calm, she hurt over Will and Jack both, and if he were a different sort, he might put his arm around her. But he wasn't that sort, the bold swain, or even the timid swain. So instead he stood there with her next to him, smiling, shy and nervous. And after awhile, the nervousness faded, and they just stood, leaning against the bulwark and staring out at the still ocean until the sun faded behind them.


End file.
